“He will have the last word, you perceive,” said Mr. Caryll to Hortensia. “Harkee, Mr. Caryll,” quoth Mr. Green, quite grimly now. “I'd ha' laid you by the heels a month or more ago, but for certain friends o' mine who have other ends to serve.” “Sir, what you tell me shocks me. It shakes the very foundations of my faith in human nature. I have esteemed you an honest man, Mr. Green, and it seems--on your own confessing--that ye're no better than a damned rogue who neglects his duty to the state. I've a mind to see Lord Carteret, and tell him the truth of the matter.” “Ye shall have an opportunity before long, ecod!” said Mr. Green. “Good-morning to you! I've work to do.” And he turned back to the desk. “'Tis wasted labor,” said Mr. Caryll, producing his snuff-box, and tapping it. “You might seek from now till the crack of doom, and not find what ye seek--not though you hack the desk to pieces. It has a secret, Mr. Green. I'll make a bargain with you for that secret.” Mr. Green turned again, and his shrewd, bright eyes scanned more closely that lean face, whose keenness was all dissembled now in an easy, languid smile. “A bargain?” grumbled the spy. “I' faith, then, the secret's worthless.” “Ye think that? Pho! 'Tis not like your usual wit, Mr. Green. The letter that I carried into England, and that you were at such splendid pains to find at Maidstone, is in here.” And he tapped the veneered top of the secretaire with his forefinger. “But ye'll not find it without my help. It is concealed as effectively--as effectively as it was upon my person when ye searched me. Now, sir, will ye treat with me? It'll save you a world of labor.” Mr. Green still looked at him. He licked his lips thoughtfully, cat-like. “What terms d'ye make?” he inquired, but his tone was very cold. His busy brain was endeavoring to conjecture what exactly might be Mr. Caryll's object in this frankness which Mr. Green was not fool enough to believe sincere. “Ah,” said Mr. Caryll. “That is more the man I know.” He tapped his snuff-box, and in that moment memory rather than inspiration showed him the thing he needed. “Did ye ever see 'The Constant Couple,' Mr. Green?” he inquired. “'The Constant Couple'?” echoed Mr. Green, and though mystified, he must air his little jest. “I never saw any couple that was constant--leastways, not for long.” “Ha! Ye're a roguish wag! But 'The Constant Couple' I mean is a play.” “Oh, a play! Ay, I mind me I saw it some years ago, when 'twas first acted. But what has that to do with--” “Ye'll understand in a moment,” said Mr. Caryll, with a smile the spy did not relish. “D'ye recall a ruse of Sir Harry Wildairs to rid himself of the company of an intrusive old fool who was not wanted? D'ye remember what 'twas he did?”